


The Cadian 005 Special Operations Regiment

by SeeTheGuyPerson



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeTheGuyPerson/pseuds/SeeTheGuyPerson
Summary: A Lieutenant of a Cadian regiment surveys what’s left of his fighting force after surviving a battle the night before.(A quick little story based mostly on the models I painted myself just to give them personality)





	The Cadian 005 Special Operations Regiment

Lieutenant Janus Melitis blinked away the blurry grey from his eyes. His ears rung so loud he didn’t even know what his own thoughts sounded like yet. With enormous effort, he brought his arm up to his forehead to block out the offensive light coming in from outside.

A figure came into view, just a hazy patch of dark green and tan in his vision. They spoke and Janus felt his hand being gently pulled away from his face. Eventually, his hearing quieted enough for him to understand what he was being told.

“You shouldn’t push yourself too hard, sir,” a familiar voice, the platoons senior medic Alexandra Shinn, “Your left arm is broken and and burned you have gashes across your face. Just take a while to rest.”

Janus’ thoughts started to order themselves. He remembered just how he managed to get himself into the medical tent. His platoon of Guardsmen had been order to hold a chokepoint through the jagged mountains on this Emperor damned planet against heretical traitors at all costs, that they were to let nothing pass until reinforcements arrived. The previous day, one of their scrap metal armoured fanatics threw a shoddily built grenade into his trenches. Right into the lap of one of his riflemen. On instinct, Janus grabbed the collar of the Guardsman and yanked him away, raising his left arm against the blast.

“If that grenade had been up to Munitorum standards, you wouldn’t be alive right now, sir,” Alexandra continued, “You need to stay here and get some rest.”

“I will do no such thing, Guardsman!” Janus managed while sitting up in his cot, “We need every man on their feet and I am no exception.” As he sat up, he felt the pain on his forehead and cheek as well as the numbness of his left arm in a sling, “If I can stand I can fight, Alexandra.”

Alexandra pressed her hand on her superior officers shoulder, “You may be in command of the platoon, but you are in my tent, sir!” Though Alexandra was a full head shorter than the Lieutenant, she had a knack for speaking as though she stood eye to eye with an Astartes, and making whoever she spoke to believe it. Even with such weight to her words, Janus still refused to take a medical bed from another that might need it more.

“Let me get up, Guardsman,” Janus winced as he push back against the medics weight, “That is an order.”

With some reluctance, Alexandra let Janus get to his feet. Janus stood for a moment, letting his feeling come back to his limbs. After fully regretting this, he looked around at the medical tent filled with wounded. Some were sitting on the edge of their cots, just recovering from burns or lacerations from shrapnel. Some were unconscious, their flak armour laid neatly at the foot of their bunks while the rest of the medical staff changed bandages, stitched wounds, and checked readings given to them by their instruments. For every soldier under his command that was on the path to recovery and combat readiness by the end of the day, there were four others being carried out lifeless after being given their last rites and prayers. He made a mental note to request the Munitorum for medals to be awarded posthumously. Emperor knows too many were martyred without recognition.

“How many did we lose?” Janus asked.

“Twenty three martyred in action, another twelve here that died from wounds, four with minor injuries.” Alexandra lamented, “I don’t know about what we lost in the field.”

Janus gave a sigh and a silent prayer to the Emperor. When finished, he turned to get his officers cap and laspistol from the corner of his cot. With only his right hand to work with, it proved awkward to do. He began his walk out of the medical tent and out into the camp towards his own, Alexandra following behind. It was mid morning and the camp was already making efforts to repair the areas that were shelled the night before. Most were simply erecting new tents, some were clearing the chunks of torn up soil and dirt. He was happy to see that many more were still healthy enough to get in morning exercise as a squad jogged along in formation. This region of the planet was in the middle of its summer, giving a welcome warmth over the camp. As he walked, several of the soldiers and officers going about their morning routines stopped to give a crisp salute and a sharp ‘Good morning, Lieutenant!’ Janus chose to ignore the worried or appalled looks they were trying to conceal. He must look like he head butted Rogal Dorn’s own chainsword.

“If you won’t take the time to heal, you should at least let me apply fresh bandages, sir.” Alexandra said.

“Yes, that would probably be best.” he admitted.

When they got to the command tent, Janus set down his pistol and cap on his desk and picked up the small mirror from his personal grooming kit. When he looked into it, he saw two gauze pads adhered to his face on his cheek and brow. Alexandra carefully pulled them off and he could now see the reason for his lingering headache. A long cut through his forehead extended from just above his right eyebrow to the top right of his shaven scalp. Another gash split his cheek on the same side, tugging his mouth into an uncomfortable half grin. Fortunately for the lieutenant, his wounds were already stitched well enough to be left as is.

“I believe I’ll be fine without new coverings, Alexandra,” Janus said just as the medic was preparing fresh bandages, “There are more than enough wounded that require your attention more than me.”

Alexandra relented and put her tools back in her kit. “Alright, sir,” she gave one final salute, “The Emperor Protects!”

After the medic exited, Janus put his laspistol in its holster and slipped his cap back on his head. He winced at the sting when it rubbed against the wound, but bit back the pain until it eased. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he put his flak armour vest back on as well, which again proved difficult due to his left arm being in a sling.

He exited his tent and went to the quartermaster, where he hoped to get a briefing on how the battle the previous day ended. The quartermasters tent, more Mechanicus workshop than living area, was buzzing with the sounds of machinery. On a large table outside the tent, hundreds of lasgun power packs were left in the sunlight to charge. That was not a good sign.

When he entered, he was pleased to see one of his best friends standing in his usual perfect posture. When Commissar Logan Vrass turned to see Janus, the Fenrisian man beamed a bright smile.

“By Russ’ hairy chest, Janus!” Logan marched over and pulled the lieutenant into a tight embrace, “The Allfather must really like you! You look just about ready to tackle a Space Marine!”

“Ibelieve the term used is ‘you look like shit.’” the mechanical voice of their assigned Enginseer, Magos Leonardus, chimed in. The Magos was truly an anomaly among the priests of Mars, having one of the most developed senses of humour seen in any Techpriest. That is to say, he understood jokes more than made them, but when he did it was usually welcome.

Logan let out a booming laugh that almost brought the ringing back to Janus’ ears. The Commissar let his friend out of the vice grip, “Metalhead’s right though, Janus. You sure you should be up and at’em right now?”

“Avoid my duty? With a Commissar of the Officio Perfectus wandering around?” Janus attempted a smile, “Do I look suicidal?”

Logan laughed again and patted Janus on his good shoulder, “I’m going over to the mess for something passable to eat. I’ll make sure the whole regiment leaves the wriggly bits just for you!” With that, the Commissar strutted out of the room and off to scare the new recruits.

“How much did we lose last night?” Janus asked Leonardus, not letting his momentary good mood distract from why he was there.

“Two Chimera transports were hit by artillery,” the Magos answered without looking up from what he was working on, “Without their generators, we were forced to charge lasgun packs by sunlight. They should be fully prepared by this evening.”

“That can’t be it.” Janus pressed.

“No. It is not,” the Magos set his tools down on his table and moved to a barely recognizable engine left on the ground next to the tent entrance. Janus could never understand how the Techpriests long red robes never got caught in the joints of his mechanical legs, “This is the engine from the Leman Russ Exterminator ‘Fist of the Omnissiah.’ Without a replacement, the holy machine cannot move. It is fortunate it’s machine spirit proves as unkillable as yourself, Lieutenant. The tank is too stubborn to stop fighting and I have allowed it to serve as a pillbox on the leftmost end of the trench line.” Leonardus moved again to a half melted mass of metal further inward, “Four heavy bolter teams were taken out by concentrated melta fire. These weapons are completely lost, their machine spirits reunited with the Omnissiah.”

Janus cursed under his breath. Without those heavy bolters, his platoon had almost no answer if the heretics brought up armoured or mechanized infantry, “What about the sentinels? Are they still operational?”

“Yes. None of their ranks were lost. Although most of them expended their entire ammunition. Reloading is currently underway.”

Janus took back his curse and gave thanks to the Emperor. Maybe he was being smiled upon from the Golden Throne.

“I’ll leave you to your work then, Leonardus.”

“It is not work if you enjoy it, Janus.”

Satisfied that at least his men were not left with sticks and stones, Janus exited the workshop and began his walk to the battlefield. The camp was set up on the side of a grassy hill, with the pass they were supposed to defend on the other side. Going through the pass was possible only via a slightly raised and reinforced highway that snaked through the mountains further back, this one choke point being the only on ramp for hundreds of kilometres. At the top of the hill, Janus could clearly see the line where relatively untouched meadow met explosive churned mud. The either side of the highway was pockmarked with craters from grenades, mortars, and tank shells. At the mouth of the pass, on either side of the road in front of the ramp, was the trench line. On the end of it closest to him, Janus saw the now static block of armour and guns that was the ‘Fist of the Omnissiah,’ still slowly scanning the fields beyond of enemies. Even though it was clear the battle was won the night before, soldiers were still moving back and forth carrying wounded and martyred.

Janus hated seeing his Guardsman do this part of their jobs. Of course it was necessary and noble to recover fallen brothers and sisters, but that fact it was needed at all meant he failed those that could no longer serve the Emperor and return home. Instead of wallowing in self pity for a second longer, Janus turned back to the camp. Perhaps he can get something to eat before the psychotic traitors made their inevitable next attack on the pass.

Fortunately, walking downhill was always easier that uphill, no matter what planet you’re on, and within just a few minutes Janus was in the mess tent. It made him happy again to see his Guardsmen lining up for food and those that weren’t all sitting at crowded tables laughing while they ate. Off in the corner, Logan was surrounded by a full squads worth of soldiers. All were excitedly spectating an arm wrestle between the Commissar and the regiments largest soldier, Lil’ Mikey.

Lil’ Mikey was not a normal man. In fact, the regiment picked him up from Necromunda. He was a vat grown bruiser from the Goliath Gang of that warzone of a city. When the regiment stopped for refuelling, the huge man simply strode up to the ships recruitment officer with a duffle bag and a request to enlist. What he lacked in professional etiquette he more than made up for in his enormous bulk.  After a solid minute of struggle, Logan’s arm crashed down onto the table and the Guardsmen burst into a mixture of cheers for Mikey and laments for Logan. Lil’ Mikey stood up triumphantly and strutted about laughing.

“Care to could explain why a Commissar is encouraging my men to gamble, Logan?” Janus spoke up when just behind the group.

Each of the soldiers bolted to attention stance, even Mikey made an effort to quiet his enthusiasm.

“None of these boys placed any bets, Janus,” Logan chuckled as he too stood to face the lieutenant, “Besides, is it really gambling if I’m playing!?”

“I suppose so. Only if everyone bet against you.”

Logan roared with laughter and punched Janus in the shoulder, causing him to bend sideways with the sudden spike of pain.

“Allfather slap my mother, sorry about that Janus!”

“It’s... fine. Really.” Janus wheezed, “Carry on then, men. If the Commissar allowed it, its fine.”

The Guardsmen gathered all let out a sigh of relief and went back to their now officially permitted game. Janus breathed deeply and powered through the burn in his arm, half thankful he had feeling back in it. With that, he went to the closest thing the regiment had to a head chef. Donovan Putter was a wide man that proudly displayed the many tattoos on his arm and the many more stains on his apron.

“Wot would ya like, sir?” Donovan asked as Janus set down his bowl, “Gruel? Or stew?”

“What’s in the stew?” Janus dared to ask.

“Yestahdays gruel!” Donovan chuckled as he dished out a healthy serving of brownish fluid into the lieutenants bowl, “There! A meal fit for the Emprah himself!”

Janus sat at his officers table and began eating. He would never say it was the best thing he ever tasted, even if an Inquisitor held a boltgun to his head, but at least he kept him and his men full. Sitting at the table, Janus finally felt as though he could relax. All around him, Guardsmen laughed and ate. Some played cards while telling stories of home and loved ones, some toasted the friends they lost the night before with their rationed amasec, and some simply sat and ate, content they lived to see daylight.

One of these men, a young man likely no older than twenty, marched up to Janus and stood at attention. The kid had a bandage around his forehead and the cloth of his uniform showed signs of burning.

“Permission to speak freely sir?” the young Guardsman asked.

“Granted, private.” Janus replied, “What’s on your mind?”

“My name is Marcus Bael, sir,” Marcus began, “Last night, you saved my life from a grenade. When it landed right in front of me, I panicked and froze. If you didn’t pull me away, I might have let it go off.” Janus could see that Marcus grew slightly uneasy and unconfident as he spoke, “I almost cost the regiment not only my own life but also potentially the lives of my squad. You had to step in to correct my failure, and as a result injured yourself. I’d like to submit myself to appropriate discipline, sir!”

Janus set down his spoon and glared into Marcus’ eyes.

“Does your wound still hurt, Guardsman?”

Marcus swallowed hard, “Yes, sir.”

Janus eased and picked up his spoon again, “Then that is punishment enough.”

“Sir?”

“You are not at fault,” Janus explained, “The traitor that threw the grenade was, and I’m certain Lil’ Mikey caved in his head with a shovel.”

“Thank you sir!” Marcus beamed a restored smile, “I won’t let you down again!”

Marcus then rushed off to rejoin his friends, likely feeling as if the weight of Terra itself had been lifted off his shoulder.

Janus chuckled to himself. Even though the battle the night before cost close to forty lives, over a hundred more survived. The Cadian 005 Special Operations Regiment was wounded, but carried on in the Emperors name undaunted. Janus let himself enjoy the stew. With a slight gag, he immediately regretted that.


End file.
